


Bucky and the Binder

by wombatpop



Series: Pride Month 2018 [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Binding Injuries, Chest Binding, Grief/Mourning, M/M, The First Avenger Era, Trans Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-17 16:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14835462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wombatpop/pseuds/wombatpop
Summary: Bucky knows Steve can't stop binding, but he hates what it does to him. He's gonna do something about it.





	Bucky and the Binder

"We can put the couch cushion on the floor like when we were kids. It’ll be fun. All you gotta do is shine my shoes, maybe take out the trash. Come on."

Bucky and Steve walk quietly towards Steve’s now empty childhood home. Bucky tries to put on an air of tasteful optimism, but it’s far too obvious to permeate Steve’s solemnness.

"Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own."

"The thing is, you don't have to. I'm with you to the end of the line, pal."  
Bucky places a firm hand on Steve’s shoulder, hoping a hand might show feeling better than his words might.

Steve nods, and squirms slightly under Bucky’s hand. Bucky steps back slightly before he realises it’s not him Steve is squirming about.

“Bandages, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Bucky had said it so many times before that he felt a sense of déjà vu bringing the issue up again.  
“You know, you can’t keep doing that. Not with your lungs.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go without it, can I?” He doesn’t raise his voice, but Bucky knows Steve well enough to see that he’s on the verge of fury, nerves frayed from the preceding weeks and months.

“Alright.” Bucky sighs, knowing there’s no way he can talk Steve out of using them unless he offers a better option that Bucky doesn’t have.

“I’ll see you later.” Steve says, retreating to his hollow house. Bucky lets him go with a sympathetic, although slightly frustrated, smile, and decides Steve probably needs a bit of alone time right now.  
But he’s gotta do something.

\---

A knock on the door and Steve’s heart rate rises, before Bucky calls out, “Just me!”  
He’d been feeling a little anxious since the funeral a few days ago. With no one in the house at night and his ribs blooming in bruises from wearing the bandages too tight for too long, he wasn’t in the mood for visitors. But Bucky wasn’t really a visitor – he almost spent more time at Steve’s than his own house, especially since Steve’s mother had gotten ill.

Steve opens the door to one of Bucky’s signature grins, and narrows his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing. Just thought I’d come over. Make sure you’re out of bed.” Bucky replies, entering the house.

“It’s half past two in the afternoon.”

“Yeah.” Bucky says, like it’s a reasonable thing to do, check that your friend’s out of bed at half past two in the afternoon. But Steve’s not the type – he’s the push through it, kill yourself before you rest kind of guy.

“I have something for you actually.” Bucky says, throwing Steve a wrinkled brown paper bag.

“Really?” Steve says, eyeing the paper bag cautiously.

“Yeah! Go ahead, open it up.”

Steve opens the paper bag, glancing back to Bucky, and pulls out what looks like a garment, elastic and cotton like a brassiere, but also not like a brassiere. He turns it over in his hands a few times before speaking.  
“What is it?”

“That, my friend, is a replacement for those terrible bandages you insist on wearing.”

Steve pauses, looking from the garment to Bucky and to the garment again.  
“Are you sure?”

“I made it myself, borrowed my mother’s sewing kit and some scrap fabric.”

“Wow.” Steve starts looking a little less perplexed and a little more impressed, much to Bucky’s delight.

“See, there’s elastic straps across the top and back, and some fabric across the front, so it’ll keep everything in but it won’t make it so you can’t breathe.” Bucky says, gesturing to the garment.  
“My neighbour was giving a bunch of old clothes to my mother and there was this thing that she said was for reducing, girls were all wearing them ten years ago apparently. But it was broken in the back so I fixed it up.”

“So you didn’t make it from scratch, you just altered something that was already made.”

“Technically.” Bucky says, and Steve laughs.

“Do you wanna try it on?” Steve stops laughing.  
“Yeah”, he says, uncertain. “I’ll give it a go.”

He starts to peel his shirt off, wincing slightly when his arms are furthest back. Bucky goes to help him, breath catching in his throat when he sees the signs of bruising peeking out from above and below the bandages.

“Oh, Steve.”  
Steve doesn’t meet his eyes, brushing him away and gesturing for Bucky to turn.  
Bucky turns to the wall, but it doesn’t stop him hearing the tiny sharp inhales as Steve unwraps himself.  
There’s a grunt, the rustle of fabric, and a sigh.

“I think I’ve got it on.”

Bucky turns to Steve, pulling and fiddling with the elastic straps.

“It’s definitely flatter.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah.” Steve continues to pull the garment around uncomfortably.  
“I think it’s twisted.”

Bucky goes to Steve with a sigh, more friendly than exasperated.  
“What would you do without me?”  
Steve chuckles, but quiets at Bucky’s touch. The elastic straps are barely twisted, a testament to Steve’s limited mobility more than anything. Bucky’s fingertips feel overly sensitive to Steve’s bare skin, the hair on Steve’s shoulders standing up as Bucky adjusts the strap.

“Should be fine now.” Bucky says, his voice dampened slightly, taking a few steps from Steve before speaking again.

“Can you breathe?” Steve takes a deep breath, stopping abruptly and coughing a couple of times when his ribs protest to being expanded.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, worried his handiwork was a failure.

“I’m fine. It wasn’t this, it was-” Steve can’t finish but Bucky gets the idea.

“Anyway, try it out and see.”

“Yeah.” Steve says, pulling his shirt back on.

“And Steve?”

“What?”

“Maybe give yourself a break sometimes?”

Steve doesn’t reply, focusing his attention on his buttons, and Bucky doesn’t push, knowing that whatever Steve decides to do will probably have little to do with him. 

“I should get home, I promised my mother I wouldn’t be out long.”

“Sure.” Steve tucks his shirt into his trousers.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Okay.” Bucky turns to go and has the front door open before Steve speaks.

“Hey Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”  
He’s said it a million times before, for bought hot dogs, and borrowed jackets, and birthday party invitations. But this feels a little different; it’s got a weight, an emotion to it that the other ones didn’t. Bucky almost feels like he should cry, or something like that.

But he doesn’t. 

He just says, “You’re welcome.”

**Author's Note:**

> i thought of the the thing that bucky made the binder out of as a 1920s breast-binding bandeaux, worn by flappers
> 
> let me know if you'd be interested in a sequel/prequel!
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](http://wombat-pop.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
